We're Gonna Make it Through
by tay0720
Summary: Follow up to 'Keep Me Hanging On'. Quinn reflects on things that happened in Throwdown. Actual dialogue from the episode is used. Rachel/Quinn. Oneshot.


**We're Gonna Make it Through**

You might think it's easy being me and that my life—the one I was leading before I was pregnant—is perfect. If you do, you'd be just like everyone else at McKinley. It's not necessarily a bad thing or a fault even. All it means is that you buy into the façade; the show I put on for everyone. Day in and day out I put on performances that the likes of Meryl Streep, Hilary Swank and even one Rachel Berry would be envious of. But to know it was an act that would have to mean people looked closer, deeper than the surface. Thankfully this is high school, so no such thing exists.

That's a lie too though, I know it is. I know because as hard as it might be to believe, I do possess the ability to feel. I can empathize, quite well actually. Just because I never show it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It's like that movie with Tim Allen…The Santa Clause: Seeing isn't believing, believing is seeing.

If you wanted to compare me to someone, I guess a good example would be Kristin from Laguna Beach. I'm the blonde, popular bitch with the boyfriend that all the girls want to be with. Only I don't have sex as often (re: haven't before or since the Puck incident) as they imply Kristin does. And I'm also a great friend to Brittany and Santana (really the only Cheerios I can stand) when they need me to be.

Which means, for all intents and purposes, Rachel Berry would have to be my Lauren Conrad (or LC as her friends call her).

I hate Rachel Berry, just like Kristin hates Lauren. I hate that she knows anything about me. I hate that at one point in time, even though we were only in second grade, we were best friends. The thing I hate most though is the fact that I don't really hate any of those things. I don't even really hate her. It's just another lie; another facet of the façade.

The only reason I direct most (or all depending on your perspective) of my anger and frustration at her is because of what she knows. The things I know she remembers from the short time we were close during the innocence of childhood. The things I wish she wouldn't remember but I know she can't forget. She can't forget because neither can I.

We weren't like other best friends. No, we were always closer than that. We held hands—Rachel or I would practically rip the other's arm out of the socket as we jumped up and took off at full speed when the bell rang—when we headed out for recess. We sat next to each other at lunch and traded puddings or Jello cups or chips or cookies—Rachel prefers Oreos over Keebler Fudge Stripe.

She came with me to the Nurse's Office when I scraped my knee after a little Noah Puckerman tagged me a little too hard, sending me tumbling to the ground.

She grabbed my head, forcing me to look directly into her eyes while she enthusiastically talked about some new dance she was learning, effectively distracting from the sting of the antiseptic that was being sprayed on my wound. She kissed the Barbie band-aid after it was applied and swore she'd give "that mean Noah Puckerman a stern talking to about the rules and etiquette of coed playground cohabitation" when we were out in the hall.

I had no idea what most of those words meant but she was just so cute when she said it. So cute, in fact, that when I stopped and pulled her arm slightly to turn back around I pecked her on the lips. She gave me a confused look, but when I smiled shyly and shrugged, she just grinned.

Our lifelong friendship contract was terminated after only a month.

My mom was a little late picking me up after school one day which meant I got to spend a little more time with Rachel. She was teaching me some funny dance moves (tap dancing always made me laugh, kind of like River dance) when her dads and my mom came bounding up. Rachel squealed when she saw both of her dads—usually only one came—and launched herself into their arms.

She introduced me to her dad (Steven) and her daddy (Daniel) and I introduced her to my mom. Our parents shook hands and we went our separate ways. That was the last time I got to play with Rachel.

Looking back on it now, I should've noticed the pained look my mother had on her face when she shook Steven and Daniel's hands. I should've noticed the fakeness in her voice, but I was just a kid.

It was during the car ride home that I was simply told that I wasn't allowed to talk to Rachel Berry anymore. When I asked why, I received no answer. After dinner my father sat me down in the living room and explained to me that having two dads was unnatural and immoral. That they were going to hell and that God would punish them and Rachel.

The next night, after I had spent the day ineffectually ignoring a girl I cared about so much and the hurt that was evident in her eyes, he brought home a gold cross and put it around my neck. I've worn it every day since, but for such a small pendant it always felt like a boulder; the gold chain it was attached to felt more like a choke collar dogs wear.

It's that image, the one of Rachel Berry's expressive brown eyes pleading for a reason, that's running through my head while playing with the boulder hanging from my neck when Finn makes a ridiculous cover attempt at passing me a note during our Spanish test.

I look at it and then up to the dopey look he has on his face.

"What is this?" I ask, slightly annoyed I was brought out of my reverie.

"Check it out," he starts out enthusiastically. "I came up with a name that I think would be good for the kid."

"Eyes on your own test, Finn."

He waits until Mr. Schuester is distracted enough by Ronnie before he turns back to me.

"Anyway, then I read that Gwyneth Paltrow named her kid apple and I think that is so cool, cause you know how much I love apples, right? So I figured we should name our kid something more...original and poetic." He's kind of adorable when he rants like that, and normally I'd find it endearing, but I'm cranky these days. More easily annoyed, I begrudgingly open the note. "Then I came up with the best baby name of all time. Drizzle!"

"Drizzle?" I'm becoming increasingly aggravated now.

"Yeah! Yeah, cause you know how awesome it is when it's drizzling outside, but it's not really raining, so it smells like rain but you don't need an umbrella to go outside."

He's so excited by the time he finishes that I almost feel bad for what I say next.

"Are you a moron?"

Like I said, almost.

His grin drops and looks almost stupefied.

"What?"

"We're not naming our baby Drizzle. We're not naming our baby anything!" I harshly whisper as I shove the note between the pages of my Spanish book. "Finish your test, Finn." He slowly turns back to face the front and Brittany takes my test to cheat from. As if I'm not already mad enough, I have to deal with this too. "Will you give me my test back?" I demand, probably a little louder than I should have.

"I just don't understand anything," she replies with a blank look on her face.

I did feel sorry for her, Spanish wasn't her thing. I couldn't deal with that right now though.

"That's not my problem."

---

As soon as the bell rings I rush out, Finn following close behind.

"You are so insensitive! Bringing up baby names to me when you know I don't want to keep it. I **can't** keep it."

The hallway is noisy enough that we can have this conversation without having to worry about someone overhearing us.

"I-I know, but I don't get what you expect me to do about it."

I'm already angry about being in this situation in the first place. I'm willing to take my share of the blame because yes, I did get drunk. Yes, I did sleep with my boyfriend's best friend. And yes, we didn't use protection. But I've told him a million times that I am not and cannot keep this baby.

"Not have an opinion?" I snipe.

I can hear his pace slow and I don't have to look back to know that he probably looks like he just got hit in the stomach.

"Hey, this is happening to me too!"

"No it's not!" We're by my locker now and I turn to look him in the eye. I have to make eye contact with things like this so he knows he'd better pay attention. "You're not the one whose parents will burn her like a witch if they find out."

I open my locker roughly and don't even flinch when it slams into the one next to it. I'm about to switch my books when he says possibly the worst thing he could ever say at that moment.

"You know, sometimes I wish you were a little more like Rachel."

My blood is boiling. The fact that he thinks he knows anything of importance about her—which he just might since he has spent more time with her than I ever got to—makes me laugh bitterly inside.

I slowly turn to face him, hoping my face reads anger and not hurt.

"Really?"

I hate that my tone sounds pathetic and insecure, but I can't help it. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her too. She doesn't seem to care much about what other people think of her. She does what makes her happy.

"Yeah. She cares about my feelings, she sticks up for me." Hearing this sends me back to outside the Nurse's Office all those years ago. "She sticks up for both of us. Did you know that she gave that Jacob kid a pair of her underpants just to keep him from posting on his blog about you being pregnant?"

That little nugget of information sends my brain into a fit. How dare that creepy little JewFro ginger blackmail her. Is there no decency left in this world? I take a deep breath to calm down; I have a part to play. I smile, quite self deprecatingly at my own inner hypocriticalness. "You think she did that for me? Just to be a good teammate?"

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Rachel had a major crush on Finn. During Glee practices when I'd sneak a peek over to her I always caught her staring at Finn and me. I'd catch him looking at her every now and then as well. It bothered me, more than it probably should have. It wasn't that I didn't want him to be happy, inevitably I did. And I knew that he and I wouldn't last, but Rachel…Rachel was off limits.

"Yeah, that's what she told me."

Good lord he was naïve. Or was he… Sometimes I really wondered if he was as dumb as he seemed to be.

"I know some guys cheat on their wives or pregnant girlfriends, just don't do it with her." With a sad nod, tears about to spill from my eyes, I slammed my locker shut and stormed off.

---

The afternoon's secret jam session is a nice reprieve for my brain. I'd sat through my classes thinking nonstop about everything—the baby, Puck, Finn, Miss Sylvester's possible reaction if she found out and, just to torture myself, Rachel Berry—so being around Santana, Tina, Kurt and everyone that wasn't involved helped me relax a little.

Of course the fun had to end. "Sue's Kids" take their leave and Mr. Shue gives us a new song. One look at the title sent a knife into my chest.

Watching them sing to each other is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Those words…they didn't understand the meaning. Well, maybe Rachel did. She was smart; she'd been through a lot in her life.

---

My anger level was incredibly high, so when I spot her at her locker I knew it was time to have a nice little chat.

Slamming her locked closed (I made sure no appendages were going to be caught) I glare at her.

"Listen here, Treasure Trail, we're about to have a smack down."

She looks scared, which is good. I want her to be. She puts her hands up in a surrender fashion, as if that would save her.

"I don't want to have a confrontation," she says and tries to slip away.

"Don't" I grab her shoulder, a feeling of warmth shooting through my hand ending in my heart, and turn her back around, "play stupid with me, Stubbles. I'm having Finn's baby and you need to back off. I'm asking you as nicely as I possibly can: Leave. Him. Alone."

Now she looks guilty and I want to take that as an admission of her liking Finn and trying to take him from me.

"You're right. I-I've helped you not because it's the right thing to do, but because I had romantic ulterior motives." And in that slight pause, a look passes from her eyes causing me to rethink a bit. Is she trying to take Finn from me? "But just so we're clear, you're the one who's cheating."

She finishes with a roll of her eyes and takes off in the opposite direction.

There was no way she knew about Puck and I. I hadn't told anyone and I knew Puck hadn't since Finn probably would've knocked his two front teeth in. Gossip travels fast in such a small town. Multiply that speed by fifty and that's how quickly things got around William McKinley.

I have no choice but to follow her, I'm not done with her yet anyway. It could just be that I want as much time with her now, even being as mean as I am to her, because I can't and won't get it later.

"Excuse me?"

"I have on good authority that you're Sue Sylvester's mole and you can deny it all you want, but I know it's true."

Slipping back into my role, I laugh and deny. It's what Christians and Catholics are extremely good at, denial.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

I stop in her way, but she's quick to move past me and up the stairs, so I follow again.

"Sue's not on your side, Quinn. She's not on anyone's side, but her own. Can you imagine what she's going to do when she finds out about your situation?" She stops at the top of the stairs before continuing. "She'll probably try and rip off your uniform with her bare hands." She leans down slightly and I can smell her perfume. It's modest and light and perfect. Wait, what? "Right, every time you whisper in her ear, you empower her to do more damage to the Glee Club. And right now, Glee Club is all you have." She's right, in a way. But what she doesn't know is that I don't tell Sue everything; only enough to keep her satisfied and Glee intact. "And if I were you, I'd recognize who my true friends are. And I'd practice a little bit more because you obviously have a lot you need to express."

She doesn't know the half of it. Every day that I've had to see her and act like I hated her has killed me. I've died over a thousand times because of her and it never gets easier or less painful.

I put on a fake smile and bite out through clenched teeth, "Oh you have no idea."

Storming down the stairs I want nothing more than to run into a bathroom and cry my eyes out.

I can't do that thought, there are still acts left to be played in today's performance.

---

It's a bit awkward being up on stage with just Rachel and Finn. I'm used to having nine other people up here with me, but that's not the case right now.

My other nine bodyguards—that's what I refer to them as, because they're deflecting the unwanted attention off of me and onto themselves—are sitting in the audience, looking kind of tense. I completely understand though. Sue's teaching method bordered on psychotic.

As Rachel tries to begin the song, we see them getting up to leave. Finn asks if there's a fire and Sue goes into how there's no fire from us and how her kids are living in squalor. She's just doing it to get to Mr. Shue; it works. They start arguing and it reminds me of my parents. Out of the corner of my eye I see Rachel look to me; she remembers.

Finn yells, really yells, at the two "adults" to stop fighting. I look around quickly and realize that during some point in their fight I drifted closer to her.

Mercedes says some things; I'm not really paying attention to anything other than Rachel though. Then I hear the words "I'm out" followed by a stuttered "Me too" and suddenly people are getting up to leave, for real this time.

Rachel walks up stage a bit talking about showing us how a 'real' storm out is done. I can't think of anything but how much colder the room is now that she's not standing by me.

---

When Sue announces that she knows about the baby, that the news will be out on the internet in a few hours and abruptly left, I feel the air sucked out of my lungs and the entire room. I also feel the stares.

They're not of pity, but I can't take it either way. I know they're trying to figure out what to say or do, that they all want to help, but I can't take that either. I don't deserve any compassion from them. Not after I helped inflict any, or maybe all, of the emotional scarring they've suffered in high school so far.

Tears are stinging my eyes, but I keep them from pouring down my face. I still have a role to play and crying isn't a part of it.

---

I find little comfort in Finn's arms next to the lockers. I can't help crying now; the pregnancy hormones are becoming too much and my emotions are just too frayed.

Rachel is out here too, I can hear her berating whom I can only assume is JewFro. I can't see because my face is busy hiding in his shirt.

His hands—one on my neck, the other rubbing what he thinks to be comforting circles on my back—are strong and keeping me close to him while he chanted it would be ok.

I knew it wasn't true.

---

The dress rehearsal for our new song is painful. Not painful in the sense that I'm physically injured. This pain is far greater than any sprained ankle or knee.

It was ridiculous to think I would be able to make it through without bursting into tears. It's all I can do to contain myself from going into hysterics.

Rachel is next to me throughout the performance. When she isn't though, I can feel her watching me.

I can admit to myself that I miss having her around. I'm not ready to be so honest with myself that it's even more than that. There's certainly no way I can admit that I don't want the peck in second grade to be the only time we kiss.

Artie and his sweet smile do nothing to curb my tears, but he does succeed in getting me to smile.

Kurt is careful when we spin, making sure not to go too fast so I don't become ill. His adoring smile wins me over just a little more and I think about taking him up on any offer to shop or just have a 'girl's day' he may propose. My parents be damned, he's been nothing but amazing. All of the Gleeks have.

They're singing for me and in this moment I feel more loved than I have in my entire life.

Face to face with the girl I've hurt so many times before and she's looking at me like she did then; like she did before I abandoned her. She's looking at me like I'm the only person in the world that matters.

My self control—the little I have left—allows me to refrain from launching myself into her arms and apologize for anything and everything; from shocking everyone should I be bold enough to kiss her, _really_ kiss her.

As the song ends I allow myself just a little amnesty and begin to softly cry. The group gathers around me, embracing me in the largest group hug.

It's because of them, _all_ of them, that I can keep going.

It's because of my new family (though I can't admit that to them right now, not just yet) that I know I'll never be alone.


End file.
